Chapter Six
December 25, 1816
To Mark’s abiding delight, when he exited the inn at Faversham on Christmas morning, he discovered the snow had finally stopped. Intent on walking home, which should have put his arrival at just past noon, he stamped his booted feet for warmth.
“Are you sure you do not want to try and find a ride the rest of the way?” Frederick slapped his forearms and shuddered, as an unrelenting gale whipped through the city. “You could stay here, with me. They have rooms aplenty.”
“While I appreciate the offer, and it is tempting, given your amity, I must return to my Amanda.” Although he would miss breakfast, if he were lucky, he might make the holiday meal, over which he always presided with his lady at his side. “As it stands, I am unforgivably late already, and—”
“Admiral.” A familiar shout snared Mark’s attention, and he turned just as Clegg pulled the coach alongside the curb. “Admiral Douglas. Sir, thank heaven I found you.”
“Clegg?” The coachman could have knocked Mark over with a feather. “How did you get here?”
“I found a smithy to repair the axle the day after you departed Dartford,” Clegg explained, and then he detailed the refitting that allowed him to complete the journey. “When I discovered you were not in residence, I promised Her Ladyship that I would not return without you, Admiral.”
“Do you mean to tell me that we would have arrived yesterday, had we remained with you, in Dartford?” Frederick asked with a vast deal of incredulity. “That we could have avoided the miserable trip?”
“So it seems, Admiral Maitland.” Clegg snickered. “Now, shall we go, as Lady Amanda sits at the front window?”
“How is my wife?” Mark opened the door but paused. “Is she well?”
“My lady is worried, sir.” Clegg’s frown told Mark all he needed to know, and he jumped into the squabs.
“Are you sure you will not join me, Frederick?” Mark relished the heat of the small foot stove. “We have ample space, and you are quite welcome.”
“Mark, I thank you.” Frederick tipped his hat. “But I have a full belly, a comfortable bed, and I am warm. Indeed, I have everything I want, right here, so here I shall stay. And I bid you a Happy Christmas, old friend.”
“And the same to you.” Mark nodded once, closed the door, and pounded the side of the coach. “Drive on.”
As the rig pulled into the lane, Mark replayed the somewhat hilarious chain of events that led him to that moment. He winced as he revisited the instant he discovered Frederick huddled to Mark’s back. He snickered when he recalled Frederick bouncing in the saddle of that poor mare. He guffawed as he remembered the awkward sleigh ride spent in Frederick’s lap. And then there were the chickens.
Indeed, it was quite an adventure—one he would never forget.
But then something struck him as odd. The underlying sadness. The solemnity. The proclamation that should have provoked suspicion that all was not as it appeared in Frederick’s life.
While you and I sailed the seas and climbed the ranks of the Royal Navy, life happened without us, and we cannot change it. For some, upon return, what remained of their world included no place for them, and it is just as well.
“Oy, Clegg.” Mark lowered the window and rapped on the coach door. “Turn around, and go back to the inn.”
In mere minutes, the skilled coachman navigated the snow-covered road, and as the coach slowed, Mark leaped to the sidewalk. He burst through the door of the quaint establishment, glanced left and then right, and located Frederick nursing a glass of brandy and sitting at a table in the dining room.
“What happened to Abigail?” Mark asked in a quiet tone. “And why did you never marry her?”
“Because she died in childbirth,” Frederick replied in a bare whisper that all but screamed agony. “Along with my heir.”
“Why did you not tell me?” Mark eased to a chair opposite his friend. “And when did this occur?”
“While we patrolled the North Atlantic aboard the Renegade.” A tear streamed his cheek, and he averted his stare. “And it is not the sort of thing one shares about the woman he loves, that he ruined her prior to speaking the vows because he could not resist her. That they yielded to the passion, which ended in death. Owing to my shame and the subsequent scandal that rocked Plymouth, my father banished me, and I have had no contact with my family, ever since. Of course, you would know naught of such things, given you lead the perfect life, but I never had your discipline, and I paid for it, in Abigail’s blood.”
“My friend, we are more alike than you realize, because Amanda was with child when we married, but to say more would be ungentlemanly.” Mark grabbed the crystal balloon and downed the contents in a single gulp. “And we, too, lost our firstborn, after I left Amanda with the Siddons, in Jamaica, because she suffered the sickness. But a fever swept the island, and when I returned I found my wife deathly ill and the babe gone. That is why she sailed with me, thereafter. That is why we live in each other’s pockets. And that is why I must get home to her, now.” He stood. “Now, get out of that chair, because you are not alone, and you are going to spend Christmastide with me and my family.”
Christmastide dawned on a blustery day with a cloud-filled sky, adequate to Amanda’s mood. After dismissing her lady’s maid, she checked her appearance in the long mirror. As per her custom, she boasted a gown of navy blue velvet festooned with the braided regalia of an admiral, to honor the love of her life, and told herself he would be there to savor her attire. Toying with the necklace of diamonds and sapphires, she closed her eyes and uttered a prayer for Mark’s safe return.
In his dressing area, she smoothed the lapel of his coat of grey Bath superfine and then studied the new black waistcoat, which matched his breeches; she sewed just for the occasion. The shine on his boots reflected her image, meeting her strict specifications, and his lawn shirt and yard-length of linen were heavily starched.
If only Mark were there to wear the items.
“My darling, how I miss you.” With a sigh, she strolled from their apartment and descended the staircase, to take her husband’s place at the head of the table.
In the foyer, she peered out the side window. To her disappointment, there was no sign of the coach. As promised, Clegg departed early that morning, vowing to bring Mark home, and she requested the usual place settings, as she held out hope for his arrival.
“My lady, breakfast is served, and the family is gathered in the dining room.” Hamilton then addressed the footman on guard. “Remember, you are to notify me, at once, if you spy the coach,”
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton.” The footman nodded.
Reminding herself that she was the lady of the manor, Amanda squared her shoulders and strode to the dining room. When she entered, the men stood, and she waved. “Please, be seated, and let us enjoy the lovely meal I planned.”
At the first pop of the cork, she recalled the morning toast Mark always offered, and she struggled to compose an elegant oratory, as she assumed his position. Something inside her fractured, as she caressed the stem of the elegant crystal, because, without Mark, everything was wrong.
Closing her eyes, she invoked his image, and he magically appeared before her, with his arms outstretched. Oh, his thick brown hair, which she often yanked in the throes of passion. His chiseled cheekbones. His patrician features. His blue eyes swimming with naughty thoughts. His stalwart frame. More than anything, she longed for his lips, which could kiss her into sweet oblivion, banishing the most grievous torment, and how she needed him.
“My lady.” The plea came to her, as if from afar. “My lady.”
Torn from the cherished respite, she shook herself and discovered Hamilton at her left. “Yes? What is it?”
“The footman observed the coach coming down the drive.” The butler pulled back her chair, as she leaped to her feet.
In seconds, she sprinted into the foyer. Without donning her pelisse, she threw open the door, just as the coachman drew rein, and Mark jumped to the ground. With outstretched hands, he made for her, and she flew into his ready embrace.
Everything she held inside burst forth as a raging river, and she collapsed in a spate of tears, as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. For a while, Mark just stood there, rocking back and forth, as she wept.
“Darling, we have guests,” he said at last, in a whisper.
“I know.” Relaxing her grip, she slid down the front of him and wiped her eyes. Turning, she inhaled a calming breath. “Why, Admiral Maitland, what a wonderful surprise.” When she cast a glance at Hamilton, he nodded and dispatched a footman, and she again addressed Maitland. “We are honored to have you with us.”
“Lady Amanda.” Maitland doffed his hat, took her hand in his, and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “The honor is mine.”
“Please, come inside and take your ease, as we were just about to sit down to breakfast.” As she ushered Mark and his friend into the house, she peered over her shoulder, and to Clegg she mouthed, Thank you. To wit, he dipped his chin.
“Thank you, everyone, for the warm welcome, and it is good to be home.” Swamped amid the Brethren, Mark reached for her. “Now, if you will assemble in the dining room, my lady and I will join you shortly.”
To her surprise, while the family went one way, she and Mark went the other, as he drew her into his study. After he shut the door, he turned, and she found herself beset by six feet of aroused male.
“I know this dress, and more importantly the woman in it, and I see you got my gift.” As he pressed her against the wall, he bent his head and trailed his tongue along her décolletage, and her knees buckled. “But I am in dire need of a bath, I need to visit our son, and then I need to spend the better part of an hour making love to my wife.”
“You are late.” She raked her nails along his nape.
“My Amanda, you are stunning, as always.” To her abiding delight, he showered her face in kisses. “And I love you.”
“You are forgiven.” She giggled, as he nibbled the crest of her ear and fondled her bottom through the heavy velvet skirt. “What kept you from our bed, my darling?”
“A promotion and a series of events you may not believe.” At last, he tightened an arm about her waist and cupped her cheek. “You are looking at the Royal Navy’s First Sea Lord.”
“Oh, Mark, I am so proud of you.” It was her turn to kiss him, and she applied herself that he might have no doubt of her regard. “I shall commission a gown with the requisite regalia, my lord.”
“What I would do to you, were we alone.” He thrust his hips, as if she could possibly be oblivious to his desire. “But we have a house filled with family, and duty calls.”
“Indeed, but you will not let that stop you, later.” She straightened his cravat and then pulled a feather from his coat. “What is this?”
“It is a long story, which I will share, tonight.” He laughed and then stood at attention. “Now, will the most beautiful Lady Amanda consent to escort this humble sailor to breakfast?”
“Oh, she will do more than that, my lord.” Emboldened, she rubbed his crotch and whispered something naughty.
“Good lord, woman.” Mark exhaled audibly. “Married thirty years, and you still make me tremble. Let us convene in the dining room, that we might celebrate our reunion in private.”
Arm in arm, Mark and Amanda returned to the festivities and assumed their requisite places. After Hamilton dispensed the champagne, Mark held high his glass, and the gathering quieted.
In that peaceful calm, Amanda admired the large extended family comprised of colorful characters. The legacy of the Brethren manifested a fierce collective of daring Nautionnier Knights and the spirited women who claimed their hearts, along with an unshakable love independent of romance, which spanned the distance of time and place, never waning.
Constant as the rising sun, the bonds of kinship knew no price and made no demands. For such devotion existed in a realm unencumbered by envy or other human imperfections. Indeed, it burned as an eternal flame, to inspire future generations. When Mark clutched her hand in his, she knew, without doubt, he felt it, too.
“Friends and family, once again we are fortunate to rally for the holidays, and this Christmastide, as opposed to those past, has served to remind me of what is most important, so I shall keep my customary remarks brief.” He squeezed her fingers and winked. “It is not the presents we exchange but the time we spend, together, that ranks supreme. It is not Stir-Up Day, the kissing bough, the Yule Log, the plum pudding, or the carolers but the giving of ourselves that truly exhibits the spirit of the season, and I may have forgot that until my most recent journey. But this morning, as I study your faces, I realize I am a fortunate man, thus I wish a Happy Christmas, to one and all.”
The End
*If you would like to read Admiral Mark and Lady Amanda’s love story, download the permafree book Loving Lieutenant Douglas at any major retailer. Also, you can read George and Eileen’s story in the upcoming Owner of a Lonely Heart. And you can learn more about the entire Brethren of the Coast series at .